


Little Pistol

by AnaliseGrey



Series: Along the Way Adjacent [11]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Empire Siblings - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Torture, Keen Mind isn't always a good thing, Timestamp, background widomauk, nothing specific mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:28:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25010008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: A conversation.
Series: Along the Way Adjacent [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1284944
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	Little Pistol

**Author's Note:**

> At some point in Songbird, I think I answered a comment about it, and also mentioned it in Forruhestrum, that during the events of Songbird, Beauregard and Caleb have a conversation where she convinces him to stay behind when the rest of the group left to go to the Sour Nest compound and deal with the Iron Shepherds.
> 
> This is that conversation.
> 
> Title taken from 'Little Pistol', by Mother Mother

“When the time comes, I think you should stay here.”

It takes a moment for Caleb to focus on his surroundings again, to pull his mind from the book of advanced magic theory he’s been engrossed in for the better part of the afternoon. A few feet away from him is Beauregard, her arms crossed over her chest and face set in a scowl.

He makes note of the page he’s on before closing the book and setting it aside, turning to fully face her.

“Why?” His voice is quiet, almost covered by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. Her statement isn’t unreasonable, but then neither is his answering question.

Beau watches him a moment, her expression hard before it cracks with a sigh, and her arms fall loose to her sides as she moves to perch on the far arm of the couch. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you angry before.”

That’s not what he expects her to say, and it catches him off guard.

“I- well no, I don’t know why you would have.”

“Here’s the thing, though.” Leaning forward, with her arms resting on her knees, Beauregard’s eyes burn, reflecting the nearby fire. “You have some idea of what these people are doing, don’t you.”

It’s not a question, not really; it’s more a statement of fact, and he nods.

“Which means you have some idea of what these people are doing to _Molly_.”

His jaw ticks, his right eye twitching, unable to completely stop the change in expression. It’s an effort to keep his face neutral, one that he’s unaccustomed to expending; he hasn’t had to do it in months.

“ _Ja_ , I do.”

“Tell me.”

He doesn’t have to feign confusion at that. “Tell you what?”

“Tell me what you think they’re doing to him.”

His mouth opens, then closes, without saying anything. Beauregard is still watching him intently, expectant.

Waiting.

A headache starts to throb at his temples, and he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “What do you want me to say, Beauregard?” He drops his hand and looks back up at her, meeting her gaze. “Do I think they’re doing their best to break him? Yes. Do I think they will do it systematically, thoroughly, and with extreme prejudice so they get the product they expect to deliver ready as quickly as possible? Also yes. Do you need details beyond that? Or are you looking for an itemized list of what I would do in their place? Is that what you want?”

He could, he knows, give her that list. The moment they found out what sort of people had taken Mollymauk, his mind had started running through what might be happening, how _he_ would go about the process, and he hates how easily it still comes to him, how much some piece of him still thrills at the idea of a challenge. This is _Mollymauk_ ; this is a _person_ , not some puzzle to work through.

“Of fucking _course_ that’s not what I want.” Beau recoils, disgust on her face, and Caleb thinks with dark amusement that this is the first time she’s ever reacted to him the way he thinks she should.

“Then what _do_ you want, Beauregard?” He’s tired, of a sudden, so very tired, and he knows they’re nowhere near done, either with the conversation or the situation in general.

“Knowing what you know, knowing what you think they’re doing to him right now- what will you do if you come with us?”

“I expect I will do what I usually do. I will try to kill those we’re fighting before they kill us. I will try to help you all to do the same.”

“Will you, though?” she asks, leaning further forward, and Caleb almost tilts back away from her. “Already knowing what we might find there, knowing that they’ve done that to _Molly_ \- you’re telling me that actually seeing what they're doing to people, you’re not going to lose your shit, even a little bit?”

Caleb swallows, throat suddenly dry. “I-”  
  
“Because I’ve got to tell you,” Beau says, cutting him off. “I don’t have anywhere _near_ the idea of what they might be doing to him that you do, and I’m ready to straight up murder them with my bare hands.” She takes a deep breath, shaking as she releases it, and Caleb has the sudden realization of how furious she is in this moment. “So I can only imagine that you, whatever you are to each other, might have some _fucking opinions_ on these asshole’s life choices.”

Despite himself, he huffs a laugh. “You could say that, _ja_.”

“Look, man, I’m just saying-” Beau switches from furious to awkward, and Caleb’s reminded of just how _young_ she is. “If you stay here, you won’t do anything you might end up regretting.”

His eyebrows shoot up at that. “Are you saying you think I’ll _regret_ what I’d do to those- those-” He doesn’t have the words for it, not in Common, the kind of filth these people are, the sort who ply trade in flesh, not because they believe in a higher calling, not because they believe they're doing it for the greater good, but because they _can_ , because of the coin it earns. As poorly as he thinks of himself, he knows he’d have to drop to a whole different level to match them.

“Maybe not immediately.” Beau sits back again, her spine straightening as she sits up. “But despite how much you tell us what a shit person you are, I don’t think you realize how much you’re really not. You’ve changed since we all met, and I’m not saying you’re fucking perfect-” she points a finger at him. “But it’s noticeable, you know? You’re trying, to be better. Whether for your own reasons, or for him, or whatever, but you’re trying. I don’t want you throwing that away on these fucks.” She pokes him in the chest and he winces, reaching up to rub at the spot. “You’ve worked too fucking hard.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying,” he says, weighing his next words carefully. “But this is going to be dangerous. They are trained, they are embedded, and they are prepared. These aren’t petty bandits like we meet on the road and can overtake by accident and sheer dumb luck. We will need, for lack of a better term, all the fire power we can muster. Otherwise we will all end up dead or worse.”

“Yeah, I get that. But put yourself in Molly’s place. You’ve just been through almost two months of fucking _hell_. He probably won’t even realize he’s been rescued at first. Who do you think the first person he wants to see is? Because let me tell you, it’s not any of us.”

Caleb’s face twists with emotion he can’t quite name. “Beauregard-”  
  
She drops down to sit on the couch next to him, jostling him as she takes his hands in her own callused ones. He tenses, and she looks awkward again, but apparently they’re having a Moment.

“Let us do this for you. You think we don’t know there’s gonna be some shit there that we’d rather not see? Most of us will forget it after awhile, though. You won’t. Don’t do that to yourself, man.”

Rarely has Caleb ever seen Beauregard look so earnest, pleading with him to give in. 

A part of him wants to refuse, to go with them to the compound and rain fire and destruction down on them for what they’ve done. To look these people in the eye, the people who have Molly, and make them suffer- _slowly -_ for all they’ve done, for every indignity and hurt he has no doubt they've visited upon their friend. He knows he could. Some skills stay with a person, and his memory is exceptional.

And then he takes in the resolute jut of Beauregard’s chin, feels the fine tremble of her hands where they hold his, and his anger flows out of him, leaving him drained and weary. Looking down at their hands he nods and gives her hands a squeeze. 

“Okay. I- I will stay here.”

Beau’s fingers flex around his, and when he chances a glance up it’s to find her momentarily stunned, like she didn't think he'd agree. It clears a second later, and she coughs, pulling her hands back and clapping him on the shoulder. He manages to hold most of his grimace in.

“Good. Awesome. Great talk.” She pulls her hand back like she’s going to smack his shoulder again, but changes her mind at the last moment, letting her arm fall back to her side. “Cool.” She gives a sharp nod and spins on her heel, heading back out the door of the library.

He watches her go and sighs, snapping Frumpkin into place on the couch. The familiar gives a quiet _mrrp_ before climbing up onto Caleb’s lap, purring.

“It will be fine,” he says quietly, scratching Frumpkin behind one ear. “They all know what they are doing. They will have Mr. Clay’s help. We just have to-” He takes the nerves trying to swallow him whole and shoves them down. “-to trust them.”

Frumpkin continues to purr, and after a moment Caleb picks up his book, flips back to his page, and goes back to reading.


End file.
